


I'm Thanking You

by dksm41



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Gen, Mentions of child neglect, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Swearing, Very very slight Mac bashing, mentions of child abuse, self-depreciation, slight depression, thoughts of worthlessness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 19:25:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18104885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dksm41/pseuds/dksm41
Summary: Bozer doesn’t have much to be thankful for, but he knows he can be thankful for him.





	I'm Thanking You

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: Happy Thanksgiving, guys! By the way, as a proud Hispanic female, I may or may not have thrown in a little Hispanic love in there. Sorry! Don’t worry. It’s just one line, haha!  
> Also, this was originally posted on FanFiction.net, but I wanted to post it here because I want to start using my AO3 account more.
> 
> To those who read "Comfort", there is a sequel coming, but it will be a bit before it actually comes out.
> 
> Post-Story Note: So, I won’t lie that I spent a lot of time while writing this story listening to NF’s song “Let You Down” and I highly recommend you listen to that while you read this to get the full effect of what I was trying to get at with this story. I hope you all enjoy and had a great Thanksgiving.

 

_“Take the time every day to be thankful_

_for everything that you have._

_You can always have more,_

_but you could always have less.”_

_~ Mohd Uved._

 

xxxxxxx

 

It was no secret that Bozer loved cooking. There was no doubt that he was amazing at it, either. Sometimes, Bozer thought about opening up his own little restaurant, but life slips in through the backdoor and often takes him by surprise at how fast time flies. Instead, he settles for creating the best dinners he can for his friends that work harder than he ever could. When Thanksgiving comes around, even Bozer couldn’t deny how out of hand he gets.

 

The team had left on a mission to Moscow, Russia the day before yesterday and were supposed to be getting back tonight, just in time for the holiday of giving thanks and appreciation. Therefore, Bozer took it upon himself to go grocery shopping. Well, shopping for food that would be cooked in one day and last for a week after. It was the least he could do for his stressed friends.

 

Screw that.

 

They were family. And Bozer would do anything for family.

 

Bozer sighed as he wandered up and down grocery aisles, pushing a cart along and gazing around at the shelves. The grocery stores weren’t nearly as packed as they should have been. He had purposely chosen one of the more lesser known stores, not only because it was nearly empty, but because the food was cheaper and still the same quality.

 

After living in L.A. for the past few years, he’s picked up a few tips, tricks, and hacks.

 

_‘Hmm. What to make, what to make,’_ Bozer wondered as he paused in front of the canned food section.  _'_ _Well, definitely yams.’_ He picked off a can of yams, followed by a sliced pineapple can from Dole. _‘I can put pineapples on the ham. That’s always delicious.'_

 

Bozer snapped his fingers as he remembered extra food recipes. _‘Where’s the honey and cherries? I can smoke the ham, slather it with honey, and add pineapple and cherry. It’s amazing. God, now I’m hungry.’_

 

Bozer placed the cans in the cart and moved to other side of the aisle to collect the honey and cherries. He looked around, grabbing a can of corn before dumping the new items into his cart as well.

 

He glanced at his watch. _‘Twelve thirty.’_ He sighed. _‘Well, let’s get moving. You still have dinner to cook.’_

 

With that, he continued to push his cart forward, determined to find the rest of his perfect ingredients for his guaranteed best Thanksgiving dinner yet.

 

xxxxxxx

 

Bozer didn’t even bother putting away all the groceries when he got home. Instead, he just got to work on peeling potatoes after he swiftly set the rice on the stove. He had seasoned a small pork shoulder the night before and left it in the oven as he went shopping. The pork shoulder still had another hour and half until it was ready, leaving him enough time to fix up the stove-cooked foods and prepare the stuffing for the turkey, as well as season the ham. However, he also had three pies baked from the day before so that was a plus.

 

It was a lot to do for only one person, but Bozer didn’t mind. His friends did the hard work. All he had to do was be the domestic worker. Sometimes, he felt more like Mac’s wife or maid rather than his best friend most of the time, but he was just grateful he could provide and care for the man who had given him friendship since they were little kids.

 

There was no doubt that Mac had grown distant since he returned home from Afghanistan. It hurt Bozer most days to look at the person he had been so close to before start to seem so far away now, but he had to keep going. Sometimes, he had to remember that his feelings didn’t matter, that it wasn’t always about him. He just had to be thankful that he even had friends to spend Thanksgiving with, even if they didn’t really feel like friends at all.

 

Bozer sighed as he cleaned the diced potatoes with water from the faucet. After a few repetitions of washing, he filled the pot with water one last time before dropping a couple of eggs in as well and placing the pot on the stove with the fire set to “Medium.” It would take a little while, but the potatoes and eggs should be done before the pork shoulder, allowing him to peel the eggshells and mash the eggs themselves with the potatoes.

 

After setting the potatoes and eggs on the stove, he got to work on the stuffing mix. It was an old recipe he had learned from watching his old Nana Millie make several Thanksgiving dinners over the years. God, he loved that woman. How he missed her so….

 

With newfound plans of visiting her during Christmas break, Bozer got to work on the turkey fit for his teammates’ appetites. It didn’t take him too long - he was already pretty skilled at the whole “season-and-stuff” technique that Nana Millie taught him. He found himself not minding that he channeled his inner grandmother.

 

_‘Grandfather, Bozer,’_ he reminded himself. He sighed sadly. _‘Someday, at least.’_

 

Whistling a improvised tune to himself, Bozer let the turkey set while he got to work on the ham. _‘A little bit of Adobo, some Sazón, can’t forget the Sofrito...Where did I channel my inner Hispanic from when I don’t have any Spanish relatives?’_ Bozer hesitated. _‘At least...I don’t_ _think_ _I have Hispanic relatives…Is that why I’m so loud?’_ Bozer smirked as he continued to basically massage the ham in front of him. _‘At least I know how to party to the early hours of the morning.’_

 

The oven timer beeped just as he scrubbed in the finishing touches of the seasoning.

 

_‘Right on time, Bozer,’_ he thought with a proud smile.

 

He opened the oven door, and the delicious smell of a perfected pork shoulder wafted through the house. His stomach growled almost immediately, and he winced as he remembered how he had yet to eat anything today.

 

_‘Well,’_ he thought as he carefully lifted the pork shoulder out of the oven and replaced it with the turkey on the bottom rack and the ham on the top. _‘At least I’ll have room to taste the pork shoulder.’_ He snickered as he closed the oven door again and reset the timer. _‘What the hell am I saying? There’s always room for pork shoulder!’_

 

Bozer carefully sliced off a piece of pork and popped it into his mouth as he glanced at the microwave’s clock. _‘Hm...The others should be getting home soon. I wonder if everyone’s coming over. Riley might want to spend this one with her mom so maybe not her. Jack would probably go with her but probably not since he is basically Mac’s guard dog. Does Matty even have family to spend Thanksgiving with? Does Cage?’_

 

Bozer shrugged as he got to work on the yams. He dumped the yams into a baking dish before pausing. _‘Should I make plain yams or candied yams? Do the others even_ _like_ _candied yams? I don’t think I’ve ever made them for Mac…’_ He looked down at the baking dish. _‘Well, I think there’s enough to do half-and-half...We’re about to find out! ...Who’s ‘we,’ Bozer? It’s just you...alone...very lonely...except not really lonely at all because you can play your music very loudly, why aren’t you playing your music, Bozer? Let’s get dancing while we do this! Stop saying ‘we!’ ...Or thinking it...Whatever.’_

 

Bozer took a quick break from cooking to play his favorite music playlist. A huge smile broke out on his face as a Bruno Mars song came on immediately. Slightly dancing now, Bozer went back to separating the yams into two different baking dishes, one candied and one not.

 

Time seemed to fly by much faster now that he wasn’t cooking in silence. It was also a lot more fun, too. He swapped out the meats with yams to “New Rules” by Dua Lipa. He coated the smoked ham with honey to The Chainsmokers’ “Something Just Like This.” He was a bit embarrassed to admit that he may or may not have serenaded the smoked ham with “Treat You Better” by Shawn Mendes as he jabbed into it with toothpicks that held pineapple slices and cherries.

 

With a breath of exhaustion, Bozer finally stepped back and looked at his Thanksgiving feast. The house was overflowing with the mouth-watering aromas of meats and candied yams. The rice was neatly served on a silver platter with an identical platter beside it that held a generous serving of mashed potatoes. The baking dishes still held the yams, both candied and plain. The smoked ham was on another platter, decorated with sliced pineapples and cherries in the middle of the pineapple rings, resting over a neat coating of sweet honey. He couldn’t wait to dig into that one. The turkey was perfectly browned and resting on another platter beside it. The pork shoulder was resting on one of their fancier plates since he had run out of platters to put it on. That didn’t make it look any less appetizing. A small bowl of canned corn sat in front of the mashed potatoes platter, along with a plate of buttered corn-on-the-cob. Finally, he had his three pies set out on plates. There was a sweet potato pie, a pumpkin pie, and an apple pie. He had never been so grateful for Nana Millie.

 

...He may have gone a _little_ overboard. Just a little.

 

He glanced at the microwave’s clock again. _‘Mac should be coming home soon…’_

 

Sure enough, Ed Sheeran’s “Castle On The Hill” interrupted Maroon 5’s “Maps,” signalling that Mac was calling. Bozer swept his finger over the green “Answer Call” button and brought the phone up to his ear.

 

“Hello?”

 

_“Hey, Boze. Just finished our debriefing. I’m on my way home now.”_

 

“Awesome,” Bozer replied with a small grin as his eyes wandered over his feast that he was way too proud of. “I’ll be waiting.”

 

There was a pause. _“What did you do?”_ Mac asked cautiously.

 

Bozer frowned. “What do you mean?”

 

_“You have that voice, that..._ _tone_ _.”_

 

“What tone? I don’t have a tone,” Bozer answered, the grin slowly returning to his face.

 

_“Yes, you do. You have a tone that you did something and you’re way too proud of it. I know that tone. I’ve known you for way too many years to_ _not_ _know that tone, Boze.”_ Mac was full-on near afraid at this point.

 

“Well, maybe…” Bozer snickered teasingly. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

 

_“Bozer…”_ Mac warned slowly.

 

“Mac…” Bozer taunted.

 

_“You better not have done anything too bad. Jack, Matty, and Riley are going to be joining us later.”_

 

Bozer furrowed his eyebrows. “Not Cage?”

 

Mac sighed. _“I dunno. She didn’t really respond to the invite. We’ll find out later, I guess.”_

 

Bozer let out a small “huh.” “Well, okay. I think we’ll still have some beers to spare if she does show up.”

 

_“You think?”_

 

“Yes, I _think_. We have Jack coming over. He drinks beer just as easily as he drinks water. The guy’s alcohol tolerance is through the roof!”

 

Mac let out a loud laugh at that one. _“Oh, my God. That is way too true to even deny.”_ He laughed again before saying, _“Oh, wait one sec, Bozer.”_

 

Bozer waited patiently for a minute until Mac returned.

 

_“Jack just texted me. He wants me to pick him up from his house. I guess he already knows he’ll be drinking later, so he’ll probably crashing at our house,”_ Mac snorted. _“Sorry. Guess I’ll be a little later than I thought. I’m gonna drive behind Jack and wait for him to shower and stuff so I don’t have to step out again to pick him up.”_

 

Bozer let out a quiet “damn it” as he tried to figure out a way to keep the food warm now that Mac was going to be late.

 

_“You okay?”_ Mac asked concernedly.

 

“Um, yeah,” Bozer responded as his eyes landed on the still very warm oven. “Yeah. I’m good.” He rushed to start putting the meats inside the oven and placed the rice and mashed potatoes in the microwave.

 

_“You didn’t sound okay for a moment there,”_ Mac continued, still a bit unnerved as Bozer shoved both servings in the fridge.

 

“You messed up my surprise,” Bozer confessed with a light chuckle.

 

Mac echoed his laugh. _“Not sure if I should be thankful or apologetic.”_

 

“Apologetic, Mac! Apologetic! It was a good surprise!” As soon as Bozer stood up from bending down to place the corn in the fridge, he smacked himself in the forehead with his palm. “Oh, my God! I’m so dumb!”

 

_“Dumb? What did you do? What happened?”_ Mac questioned, a bit confused with the constant mood changes as Bozer quickly grabbed his keys and bolted out of the house, locking the door behind him.

 

“Nothing. I just forgot something that is absolutely crucial and that we cannot live without,” Bozer answered, climbing into his car.

 

_“And that would be…?”_

 

“You’ll find out later.”

 

_“Okay then. Well, I’m gonna go, Bozer. Good luck with that...crucial thing.”_

 

“I will!”

 

Mac snorted. _“Bye. Be safe.”_

 

“You, too.” With that, the two friends hung up their phones.

 

“How could I forget the goddamn ice cream for the pies?!” Bozer admonished as he pulled out of the driveway.

 

xxxxxxx

 

Bozer was back home before any of the others had arrived. He had a bag in his hand that contained three tubs of ice cream: one vanilla, one chocolate, and one strawberry. Yes, he was basic with the three most famous flavors, but he was running short on time and had no idea how pistachio or pecan ice cream would taste with these types of pies.

 

He rushed inside, checking the meats, rice, and mashed potatoes for their warmth. The meats were doing fine, but he had to reheat the rice and mashed potatoes. The ice cream was placed in the freezer as he reheated the rice and mashed potatoes before resetting the counter with the feast he had prepared. Bozer took out five sets of plates, knives, forks, spoons, and napkins. He would take out a sixth set if Cage showed.

 

Just as he took out the fifth set, he heard the door knob begin to jiggle, letting him know that Mac was opening the door with his key. He could also hear Matty and Jack already arguing. He rolled his eyes. Those two were never _not_ going at it.

 

Finally, the door knob turned and the door opened. The team - minus Cage - walked in and their eyes immediately went wide at the smell of food. They glanced over at the kitchen where Bozer was leaning against the sink, a smile on his face.

 

“Hey, guys,” he greeted lightly. He sheepishly waved his hand towards the over-the-top dinner. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

 

The team shared a collective “oh, shit” moment as they remembered what day it was. They filed into the living room where Bozer handed them their plates, allowing them to have first dibs on the food he had cooked for them.

 

“Holy shit, Bozer,” Jack breathed. “You completely outdid yourself this time.”

 

Bozer just shrugged. “My family used to love Thanksgiving. I learned a few things from my Nana Millie over the years.”

 

“You thank Nana Millie for me,” Jack laughed. “I would also like to meet this heavenly woman one day.”

 

Bozer snickered. “Boy, would she have a ball with you.”

 

Mac snorted as Jack gave a confused look. “Why…?” The older man asked slowly.

 

Bozer winked. “Let’s just say she likes to make sure she puts... _confident men_ in their place.”

 

Jack spluttered for a moment. “ _Confident men?!”_

 

Mac was openly laughing now while Riley snickered and Matty gave a knowing smirk.

 

Bozer didn’t reply except push the smoked honey ham closer to Jack. “Go on, Texas Boy. Eat up.”

 

“We’re not through with this, Bozer,” Jack declared as he cut himself a slice of ham.

 

Bozer gave him a sickeningly sweet smile. “Sure thing, Jack. Whatever you say....”

 

“Anyway!” Mac interrupted before Jack could launch into another spiel. “Was this the thing you sounded proud of over the phone?”

 

“Yup!” Bozer responded. “I channeled my inner Nana Millie. Nothing to be more proud of than that.”

 

Mac gave a light chuckle and a knowing grin. “Ah, yeah. Your grandmother is a special one, alright. I’m sure you channeled her well.”

 

Bozer lightheartedly narrowed his eyes at his friend. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment and move on. Now hurry up and serve yourselves so I can eat. I haven’t eaten all day.”

 

The other four friends sat down in the living room with their full plates of food, sending questioning looks to their chef of the night.

 

“Why haven’t you eaten?” Riley asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

Bozer shrugged as he loaded food onto his own plate. “It’s not like I _meant_ to go without eating. I got so busy with grocery shopping and cooking that it completely slipped my mind.”

 

Jack shook his head. “I don’t see how you and Mac can so easily forget about eating.”

 

“Of course _you_ wouldn’t understand, Dalton,” Matty fired back. The others snickered as Jack demanded to know what she was implying by that.

 

Bozer grinned as Riley and Mac watched Matty and Jack start up yet another friendly argument. As they did so, Bozer found his gaze suddenly wandering to his phone. A small tug pulled at his heart and, for a moment, he didn’t know why. And then…

 

_‘Oh. Yeah...Right. That...thing....’_ Bozer let out a quiet sigh of disappointment as he placed his plate on an empty spot on the counter and moved to the fridge. He pulled out five bottles of beer and tried to ignore that painful memory.

 

_He was thankful that his mind could help him try to forget._

 

Bozer moved to the living room and handed the others a bottle of beer each and kept the last for himself. He returned to the kitchen to grab his plate, only to go back to the living room and situate himself on the hardwood floor since he didn’t want to ask someone else to move over.

 

“Bozer, what are you doing?” Matty asked, briefly pausing from her quarrel with Jack.

 

“Sitting down?” Bozer replied, unsure because, well, was it all of a sudden wrong to sit down?

 

“We could’ve just moved over,” Mac reasoned, narrowing his eyes. Bozer was acting a little off.

 

Bozer waved a hand as if to dismiss Mac’s comment. “It’s fine. The floor is more comfortable than it looks.” That was a lie, but he began to pick at his own food to pass it off. The others looked at each other warily but decided to let it go.

 

“So how was Moscow?” Bozer asked, lifting up a forkful of shredded pork into his mouth.

 

A collective groan echoed around the three agents while Matty rolled her eyes.

 

Bozer furrowed his eyebrows and swallowed his food before asking, “That bad?”

 

“No,” Matty replied with exasperation. “They’re exaggerating.”

 

“Says you!” Jack shot back. “You didn’t get shot at! On several occasions, might I add!”

 

“Several occasions?” Bozer repeated. “How many times could you possibly get shot at in two days?”

 

Mac shook his head. “Wrong question to ask when you’re talking about us, Boze.”

 

Bozer tilted his head in agreement. “True. You guys somehow manage to make enemies in every city of every country.”

 

“Now I think _that’s_ a bit of an exaggeration,” Jack insisted.

 

“It’s not,” Riley and Mac countered simultaneously.

 

Bozer snorted at Jack’s indignant face and tried to ignore how his eyes drifted back to his silent phone in the kitchen.

 

_‘Be thankful for what you have now, Bozer. Be thankful, be thankful, be thankful, be thankful…’_

 

_He was thankful that he could try to push down his sorrows._

 

xxxxxxx

 

Bozer was ecstatic that the others loved every bit of food he shoved at them. From the meats to the rice and mashed potatoes to the home-baked pies, they gratefully ate every single thing until they were stuffed. Bozer was only just starting his second plate while the others were finishing up their fourth or fifth. Even Mac had eaten more than Bozer had ever seen. Now, all four of them were half-asleep, stuffed to the brim with food and beer.

 

Bozer gave a small smile before asking, “You guys done?”

 

There was collective groan of both disappointment and affirmation. Bozer just snickered and stood up, collecting dirty dishes and empty beer bottles.

 

“Please take it all away,” Riley groaned.

 

“I swear if I eat another bite, I’m gonna explode,” Jack grumbled.

 

“I can’t remember the last time I ate that much,” Mac muttered.

 

Bozer gave a light chuckle as he packed away all the leftover food into Tupperwares. “I can’t remember the last time you ate that much, either,” he agreed.

 

Mac chuckled in response as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back over the couch’s backrest.

 

Matty let out a deep breath. “Thanks for dinner, Bozer.” The others echoed their appreciation as well.

 

“No problem, guys. Any time,” Bozer promised with a smile no one caught considering they were all ready to sleep.

 

“I am thankful for Bozer’s delicious cooking,” Jack declared tiredly.

 

“Amen,” Riley agreed quietly.

 

“You’re preaching to the choir, Jack,” Mac murmured.

 

Bozer rolled his eyes at the others’ antics. “Well, I am thankful for people who would actually eat my cooking.”

 

“What the hell does that mean?” Jack mumbled. “If someone doesn’t like your food, they’re an idiot.”

 

Bozer raised his eyebrows as he cleared off the last of the garbage and placed the last dish in the sink. “Wow. Okay. You guys are clearly tired if compliments are flying this fast. Go to the guest rooms. One of you will have to sleep in the living room though.”

 

“I’ll take the sofa,” Jack volunteered quietly.

 

“No complaints there,” Riley sighed as she got up and left, Matty right behind her. “Night, guys.”

 

“Night,” the others echoed back.

 

Mac, Bozer, and Jack were the only ones remaining in the living room at this point. Bozer was almost positive Mac was trying to gather up enough energy to walk to his own room. With a seemingly never disappearing smile, Bozer asked,

 

“Do you want me to bring a blanket and pillow for you, too, Mac, so you can camp out here with Jack?”

 

Mac seemed to contemplate that for a moment until Jack answered, “You and I both know he’s never going to move, Boze.”

 

Bozer couldn’t help his laugh when Mac turned his head to finally open his eyes and glare at his partner.

 

“Shut up, Jack. He didn’t know that.”

 

Bozer rolled his eyes. “Actually, Mac, I _did_ know that. It’s why I suggested it in the first place.”

 

Mac raised a lazy finger to his lips. “You weren’t supposed to back him up, Bozer.”

 

“You’re tired. Go to sleep, Mac.”

 

“I don’t feel like moving. You stuffed me.”

 

“Stop being difficult.”

 

“The only thing difficult here is moving.”

 

“Stop complaining, bro. Sleep is just a few steps away,” Bozer laughed.

 

Mac just groaned in response.

 

“Mac, I’m not Jack. I’m not carrying you to your room and tucking you in.”

 

Jack’s head snapped up. “Just what the hell is it do you think we do, Bozer?”

 

Mac ignored them and took a deep breath. “Whatever. Fine.” With an exaggerated amount of effort that had Bozer rolling his eyes yet again, Mac pushed himself off the couch. He clapped Jack on the shoulder lightly before waving good-night to Bozer.

 

Once he disappeared, Bozer just shook his head, smiling, as he wiped off food that had fallen from the plates to the counter. He looked despairingly at the sink overflowing with dirty dishes. With his love of cooking came the mess of dishes, and washing dishes wasn’t exactly all that much fun.

 

Bozer kind of just wanted to wash the dishes now and get it over with, but Jack was about to go to sleep in the living room, and he didn’t want to disturb the exhausted soldier. Instead, Bozer just sighed lightly and reached to grab his phone. Just as his hand hovered over the device, he paused and held his hand there. Why did he hesitate? This wasn’t such a big deal….

 

“Boze, you okay?”

 

Bozer turned his head to the living room, where Jack was glancing at him tiredly yet with concern.

 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” Bozer replied, grabbing his phone and stuffing it in one of his back pockets.

 

“No, you’re not,” Jack snorted. “You’ve been acting off all day.”

 

Bozer furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to pretend that he didn’t know what Jack was talking about.

 

_He was thankful that he could try to pretend._

 

“What do you mean? I’m okay.”

 

Jack rubbed the back of his neck as he let out a slow exhale. “Listen, man. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but we could all tell there was something bothering you today. We didn’t want to push you and spoil the mood, but it was obvious you weren’t all with us today.”

 

Bozer licked his lips slightly and opened his mouth to respond, but he was cut off by a quiet excerpt of Lukas Graham’s “Seven Years” playing from his phone. Recognizing that ringtone, but not quite believing it, Bozer quickly grabbed the phone back out from his pocket and glanced at the Caller ID. Sure enough, it was exactly who he thought it was.

 

“I’ll be right back, Jack,” Bozer breathed as he moved to the balcony as fast as he could, swiping on the green “Answer Call” button as he did so.

 

The night air was frigid, but he paid no mind as he greeted with, “Hello?”

 

_“Well, if it isn’t my favorite grandson.”_

 

“Nana Millie?” Bozer whispered, still not believing it even though she was clearly there.

 

_“Surely you still have my number saved?”_

 

“Well, y-yeah, I-I do, but why…?” Bozer’s eyes went wide. “Is there something wrong? Did something happen?”

 

_“What? No. Wilt, have you ever thought for a moment that maybe I just wanted to talk to you?”_

 

Bozer draped his free arm across his chest, holding his shoulder as a way to draw into himself, despite the fact that Nana Millie wasn’t really pressuring him. She wasn’t even physically in front of him.

 

“Well…” Bozer sighed. “No. No, I didn’t ever think that.”

 

_“Why not?”_ Her usual strong and commanding voice was light and airy, as if she already knew how this conversation would play out, and Bozer had no doubt that she did.

 

“Because of what I did, Nana,” Bozer replied, closing his eyes. His back was facing away from the door to the house, so he didn’t know what was going on inside, just like how Jack didn’t know what was going on outside.

 

_“And, what, pray tell, did you do exactly?”_ She sounded exasperated.

 

“I... _fought_ with my father.”

 

Nana Millie laughed. _“Oh, Wilt, I would be more concerned if you_ _didn’t_ _fight with your father.”_

 

Bozer winced. “No, Nana, I mean that we _really_ fought. Like, physically.”

 

She sighed. _“Sweetheart, I_ _know_ _. I was right there. Wilt, your father is a stubborn and hot-headed man. I honestly have no clue where he got his anger from. That house was toxic for you. It was only a matter of time before that happened.”_

 

Bozer’s throat clogged. He was too choked up to reply as memories of his father’s fist connecting with his jaw replayed in his mind.

 

_“What happened last year was all_ _his_ _fault.”_ He could hear Nana Millie get choked up herself. _“I could only imagine what it was like for you today. The first holiday without family. Oh, you must have felt so alone. I know you too well, Wilt. While you might have had sweet Angus by your side, I know you were probably looking at your phone, expecting at least one phone call from someone, anyone, at_ _least_ _a text, to tell you ‘Happy Thanksgiving,’ to tell you they appreciate you.”_

 

She let out a shaky breath. _“Well, my love, Happy Thanksgiving. I love you, dear, and I do appreciate you, no matter how much our family looks down on you now. You put your father in the hospital, yes, but he nearly sent you there himself. You protected yourself. I can never be angry with you for that.”_

 

Bozer felt a tear run down his face. “Everyone else seems to be,” he whispered. “Do they even know you called me?”

 

Nana Millie scoffed, her strong voice returning as she said, _“Honey, I made sure they knew_ _damn well_ _I was going to call you. I was loud and clear about it, and you know how loud I can get.”_ Bozer let out a watery laugh. _“Frankly, I couldn’t care less what those dumbasses think. You are my grandson, that is_ _never_ _going to change, nor would I ever want it to. You have done me proud, Wilt. Never forget that. Come visit me soon. Bring Angus if he wants, and your other friends if they would like. It’ll be just us. No one else from the family. If I don’t see you for Christmas, I’ll make sure to storm up to L.A. myself, and you know these old bones don’t handle planes well no more, so if I have to suffer through that, I’m gonna bring Hell with me.”_

 

Bozer’s shoulder shook with both tears and light laughter as he replied, “Of course, Nana. I would love to visit you.” He paused. “I really, _really_ missed you today.”

 

He could hear her smile in her voice. _“I missed you, too, Love. Tell me you made a feast today, that I at least taught you_ _something_ _over the years.”_

 

Bozer laughed again. “I honest to God told Mac and my other friends how proud I was to channel my inner Nana Millie today.”

 

Nana Millie let out a loud laugh. _“Oh, how precious. Not only did I teach you, but I left a little of that Millie Magic in ya.”_

 

“Wouldn’t want to have it any other way, Nana.” Bozer let a genuine smile cross over his face.

 

_“Neither would I, hun. Neither would I.”_

 

There was a pause as the two just enjoyed the fact that, despite the unfortunate event from the last family holiday, there was still an undoubtful love that could not be severed between them. Millie loved her grandson, she always would, it was just a matter of her showing him that more often.

 

_“Listen, sweetheart, it’s a little late, so I have to-”_

 

“I know,” Bozer intervened quietly, not wanting to hear that she was leaving him too, even though it was not nearly as long the rest of his family had.

 

Nana understood. _“I love you, Wilt, very, very much.”_

 

“I love you, too.”

 

_“Good night.”_

 

“Night.”

 

With that, Bozer removed the phone from the position by his ear and hit the red “End Call” button, albeit a bit hesitant. He stared at the name “Nana Millie” written across his phone until it transported him back to his phone’s lock screen. With a sigh, Bozer kept his phone in his hand as the screen darkened again. He leaned against the porch railing as he stared off into the night sky. It was freezing, he knew he was going to get sick if he stayed out here with only a short-sleeved shirt, but he didn’t want to go back inside right now. Jack might still be awake, wondering what had Bozer practically running outside.

 

Bozer shook his head. He wasn’t proud of what he did to his father, but he could still feel the bruises that used to litter his body. A few cuts had been large enough and deep enough to scar. The punch to his jaw had left a bruise as well, but it cleared up fast, thankfully, and Mac had been away on a mission, so he never saw. Even now, Bozer was still trying to figure out if that was a miracle or not. This had been on Christmas. So much for the holiday of giving. The only present he got that day was his father telling him he didn’t belong there.

 

Bozer closed his eyes and bowed his head, using his hand to shield his eyes from nothing but his own shame that was inside of him. He refused to let any more tears fall, refused to let his father and his estranged family get the best of him anymore.

 

_He was thankful he could act like it didn’t matter._

 

“Bozer?”

 

The broken man in question raised his head and turned to see his lifelong best friend staring back at him.

 

“It’s freezing out here. What are you doing?” Mac asked quietly. He finally saw the look on Bozer’s face that clearly said that everything was not alright, that he was not okay, and to not fall for the lies he was about to spit out. Mac, suddenly forgetting all exhaustion, stepped out onto the porch as well, closing the door behind him. “What’s going on?”

 

Bozer gave a small smile towards his friend. “Nothing. Just go to bed, Mac. I’ll be inside in a sec.”

 

Mac gave a small smile in return, but this one was much sadder. “Bozer, don’t lie to me. You’re only making it harder on yourself.”

 

Bozer didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to keep remembering it. He knew that maybe it would help to finally confide in someone besides his nana, who, despite loving him very much, still remained with said problematic family due to being unable to go anywhere else.

 

“Mac, not tonight.”

 

Mac shook his head. “It has to be tonight,” the blonde pressed softly. “Because if not tonight, then when? You and I both know that if we put this to rest and not fix it tonight, it would never be fixed, or it will take forever for us to get back to it.” Mac gave a sympathetic look to his friend. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

 

He wasn’t. He never was.

 

Bozer bit his lip as he slipped the phone into his pocket and stood straighter. He turned around and leaned his back against the railing instead. He sighed.

 

“Fine.”

 

Mac took this as permission to sit down by the fire pit. He began to start a fire. At Bozer’s questioning look, Mac simply replied, “It’s cold out here, and if we’re going to talk out here as to not wake up the others, I’m going to give us something warm to sit next to.”

 

Deciding that he couldn’t argue with that logic - and, really, when could he ever argue with Mac’s logic? -, Bozer moved from the railing to sit across from Mac and the fire. Once Mac had added a few logs to the pit and the fire began to grow, Bozer took a deep breath.

 

“I...don’t know where you want me to start,” he confessed sotto voce.

 

Mac dropped the poker lightly beside him and offered, “How about why you kept glancing at your phone today?”

 

Bozer dropped his head and rubbed his neck sheepishly. “I was that obvious?”

 

Mac chuckled. “No. I’m sure I’m the only one who noticed, maybe Jack if he had been paying attention.”

 

Bozer gave a short huff of laughter before becoming quiet once more. Mac waited patiently as he watched Bozer figure out how to begin.

 

“I…” Bozer started. “I was waiting for a call, _any_ call, really, from someone in my family.”

 

Mac felt his face of patience warp into one of confusion. Bozer gave a slight smile at that before continuing.

 

“See, my family doesn’t get together for Easter. We just kind of spend it with our immediate families, so we celebrate Christmas together. It’s still a big thing if you remember from when we were younger.”

 

Mac gave a genuine smile at memories of a Bozer Family Christmas, but his smile faded when Bozer carried on with,

 

“Last Christmas didn’t go too well.” Bozer paused before scoffing. “Scratch that, it went to absolute _shit._ You had gone off to Paris on a mission, I guess, so I went down to Mission City alone to meet up with family. I guess my father wanted to maintain his image and not say it in front of you, so he waited until you weren’t there.”

 

Mac felt his mouth run dry at this. He couldn’t help but wonder in advance at what Bozer’s father had said. The man had always seemed so kind.

 

“Well, I went and everything had gone great for a while. I helped Nana make Christmas dinner. We ate and talked and everything had seemed fine! But then my father got drunk.” Bozer looked away, refusing to meet Mac’s eyes as he conceded, “You never knew, but my father was an alcoholic. He had been most of my childhood. He never drank when other company that wasn’t family was around, but when he did drink, he did no half-assed job of it.

 

“He started yelling, and everything had gotten tense and awkward. No one really knew what to say as my mother tried to calm him down. Finally, he had pushed her away, hard enough to cause her to fall and nearly hit her head on the edge of the coffee table. My uncle and I stood up and tried to get him out of the room, even if it had meant dragging him...which it had.”

 

Bozer licked his lips. “He pushed away my uncle and wasted no time in punching me right in the jaw, and, damn, does he hit hard.”

 

His attempt at humour only had Mac’s concern and anxiety growing. His humour had turned dark, which had never been Bozer’s strong suit. Mac was learning about secrets that had occurred over a number of years in a matter of seconds, and he wasn’t sure how to take knowing that Bozer’s childhood hadn’t been all the other man had made it out to be. However, he didn’t say anything and only watched as Bozer continued on.

 

“He didn’t stop there. He started ranting at me, shoving me, telling me how much he hated me, how much he wished I was-” Bozer quickly caught himself before covering up with, “- _someone else_.”

 

Mac felt the back of throat and his eyes burn as tears threatened to show. It didn’t take Mac’s genius level IQ to know that Bozer had meant that his father had wanted his son to be more like Mac. Just how often did Bozer get that remark? How often was he compared to his best friend?

 

How much did it hurt him?

 

“My family, besides Nana Millie, just stayed quiet as my father punched and kicked me, as he yelled. Finally, he struck a beer bottle towards me, but I moved so that it shattered against my arm instead.” Bozer lifted his right forearm to expose a long scar that extended from the outer side of his wrist to about midway towards his elbow. “I had had enough, and, next thing I knew, I had slammed him into the glass coffee table.”

 

Bozer tensed up and began to slightly shake with anger as he said, “ _That_ is what got the rest of my family moving. _That_ is what got my family to see that this was going too far. It wasn’t him beating me, it wasn’t him yelling at me, it wasn’t Nana Millie screaming at him to stop. No. It was me defending myself that got them to start swarming him, calling an ambulance, pushing me out of the room.

 

“No one but Nana Millie said a word to me,” Bozer whispered. “She was the only one who asked if I was alright, if I needed anything. She took me to the bathroom and disinfected my cuts and tended to the bruises that were already starting to form. She took care of me while everyone else rushed with my father to the hospital. We stayed behind at the house to clean up. We were relatively quiet.

 

“She told me how much she hated my father for what he did, despite the fact that he’s her son. She said that I didn’t deserve that. She said how she refused to go to the hospital, even when I told her she should. She wasn’t surprised when I told her that I was going back to L.A. that night. I was planning on staying past New Years’ like we normally did, but I couldn’t stay there any longer. I said goodbye to her and drove home that night.

 

“I got a call from my mother the next morning. From the moment I picked up the phone, she was yelling at me, telling me how I gave my dad a major concussion and broke his arm. She was yelling at me to get back to Mission City and own up to what I did, my _‘mistakes,’_ as she put them. I had to cut her off to tell her that I would _not_ be going back to Mission City and that I would pay for his hospital bill but nothing else. I hung up on her and that was it. Ever since that Christmas, I had never gotten a call from anyone in my family, not even Nana.”

 

Bozer rubbed his hands together as he glanced at Mac from over the fire. The tears in the blonde’s eyes shone in the fire’s orange light. He could see that Mac was shaking, but it wasn’t from the cold. Bozer just didn’t know if it was from anger, the strain of holding back tears, or the urge to just leave. Whatever it is, Bozer didn’t blame him because he himself felt all three.

 

“So, yeah. Today was the first big family holiday that we normally spend together, and I just kept wondering if anyone was going to call since I didn’t show up today.” Bozer sighed. “No one did until right before you came out here. Of course, it was Nana Millie telling me that she was sorry for not calling earlier and that she wanted me to come down to visit her for Christmas. She said that it’d be just us, and you guys if you wanted.”

 

Bozer shrugged. “And...that’s it, I guess. Nothing more to it than that.”

 

Mac was silent for a moment as he tried compose himself enough to speak again. After a minute of just the fire crackling, Mac said, “I’m sorry.”

 

Bozer looked up at him in confusion. “Sorry for what? There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

 

Mac shook his head. “No. No, there’s a lot I should be apologizing for. For starters, I’m sorry for not being there that Christmas, and not showing up when you needed me most.”

 

Bozer began to interrupt, but Mac raised his hand to cut him off. “I’m sorry that I never knew about what you went through with having an alcoholic father. I’m sorry for keeping secrets and acting like I’m the only one who has problems. I’m sorry for being away so often and not spending more time here...or with you, in general. “

 

Mac took a deep breath. “Most of all, I’m sorry that you have been compared to me. You don’t hear it enough that you are an amazing person, Boze. If anything, I have always wanted to be more like you, even when we were just kids. You are always so social, and you know how to put a smile on anyone’s face. You’re always so level-headed and there for anyone when they need you. I’m sorry for not always being there for you. What happened that Christmas was not okay. It shouldn’t have happened and definitely not to you. You’re the best son a person could ask for, and I don’t know how your father doesn’t see that.”

 

Bozer’s eyes began to water. His throat clogged up once again. His hands began to shake as he tried to find the right words to say that it was okay, that he was forgiven for something he shouldn’t be apologizing for. He didn’t know how to express how alone he felt sometimes without harming Mac’s feelings.

 

Then, like always, Mac seemed to read his mind.

 

“Bozer, just tell me. Don’t worry about how I’m feeling right now. This is about you. What do you want to say?”

 

Bozer drew in a shaky breath. “I don’t understand why you’re apologizing. I mean, I-I do, but you don’t have to. Mac, you were told not to tell me about the Phoenix Foundation, and you hid it from me because you had good intentions in mind. I may have seemed angry when I first heard about it, but I was just conflicted on how to feel. You could have died on so many occasions and I wouldn’t have even known about it, or would have know why. You were gone so often, I hardly saw you anymore, but that wasn’t the part I was hurt about.

 

“I was lonely because the times you were here, you _weren’t_. You were always off somewhere else in your own head, and you wouldn’t ever _let me in_. You don’t tell me these things anymore. It’s always you trying to protect me, or you just don’t want to let anyone in because you’re afraid of God-knows-what.”

 

Bozer locked eyes with Mac’s slightly wide ones. Tears were beginning to blur his vision, but Bozer didn’t stop there. “First, it was my family, and that I could deal with. I have dealt with my family for as long as I have been alive, but _you_ , you were different. You were someone I could always be honest with, and vice versa. But then you left, and, no, I wasn’t okay, no matter how much I said I was, but I didn’t tell you that because you had enough to worry about. You came home and you just weren’t the same. Then you kept coming and going, and I never knew where you were or when you’d be back or how long you’d stay before you were off again.”

 

Bozer swallowed thickly. “I understand why you do what you do. I understand that you can’t always be around. I understand that, as people, as we grow, we change. What I can’t understand is how you don’t realize that being open to one another is a two-way street. I feel like I can’t confide in you because you feel you can’t confide in me. It honestly feels like you can’t trust me anymore. You remember when Cage identified us as brothers in the family at the hotel?”

 

Mac nodded slowly.

 

“I agreed with her, but, for a moment, I couldn’t because brothers are supposed to be there for each other, to trust each other, but you feel that you can’t rely on me anymore, and, sometimes, I feel the same. Mac, let me be very clear, I treasure our friendship more than anything. You are the only family I have left, but you can’t tell me that you haven’t like this relationship has been feeling more strained now more than ever.”

 

Mac bit his lip and swallowed harshly as he nodded. “It has.”

 

Bozer exhaled deeply. “You have to tell me if you want this friendship to last. Do you still want-?”

 

Mac cut him off, a determined yet slightly angry look in his eyes. “Bozer, don’t you dare think for a _damn second_ that I don’t want you in my life.”

 

Bozer’s heart was actually hurting. It felt like there was a tightness in his chest that was constricting his lungs. “Then we have to figure out a way to make this work, Mac. I know that there are some things that you would never tell me about you, but you have to at least tell me _something_.”

 

Mac nodded, looking at the friend he considers so closely a brother with sincerity and pain. “I will. I will find a way to make this work.”

 

“How about we start with you saying ‘we’ instead of ‘I’ because you’re not alone in this?” Bozer sighed.

 

Mac nodded. “Right.”

 

Bozer, not really having much else to say yet having so much left unsaid, slowly stood up, and Mac did the same. The fire was slowly dying from not having been fed fresh wood in a while. Bozer moved to fetch a bucket of water when Mac suddenly grabbed his wrist gently. Bozer turned around to ask him what he needed when he was suddenly pulled into a rare hug, especially since Mac was the one who initiated it.

 

The two suddenly had tears streaming down their faces, holding each other tightly as if the other would disappear if they let go too soon. And, in a way, maybe that was true.

 

“I’m sorry. I’m trying,” Mac whispered brokenly into Bozer’s ear.

 

Bozer swallowed. “I know. I’m trying, too.”

 

At that moment, Bozer wasn’t thankful that all he could do was _try_ to forget. At that moment, Bozer wasn’t thankful he could _try_ to push away his sorrows. At that moment, Bozer wasn’t thankful he could _try_ to pretend. At that moment, Bozer wasn’t thankful he could _try_ to act like it didn’t matter.

 

Because, at that moment, Bozer was only thankful for one person. He was thankful for a blonde genius, who, even though has his own problems, had always been by his side through thick and thin and through so many hard times, especially those that had been caused by one or the other.

 

Right now, he was thankful for one thing.

 

_He was thankful that his heart, mind, and soul could love his brother so deeply._

 

_He was thankful he even had a brother._

 

_He was thankful for_ _him_ _._


End file.
